A Trophy Father's Trophy Son
by rbrammer
Summary: Kellin Quinn has been dragged from his home in Michigan to sunny San Diego, California, by his mother, who is desperate for a new start. Kellin is determined to hate it here, missing his old friends, but there's something about the Fuentes boys that he likes, especially the older one, Vic. Maybe it's worth sticking around, after all.


Dear dickface,

Mom went through with her threat to move us out of Michigan. I don't know what made her choose San Diego out of all places (maybe she just threw a dart at the map and decided wherever it landed would be our new home) but here we are. Our house is smaller than our old one, one story and two bedrooms, but I guess that's all we can afford anymore. Thanks for that, by the way.

Unpacking sucked, mostly because it felt like a prison door slamming shut, the realization that we are actually staying here smacking me in the face, and not in the kinky, good way.

I guess I was in a mood all day, because mom was just a tad too peppy about the whole moving process, trying to get me enthused, I guess.

"C'mon, Kell-bell, it's going to be fun! You'd been begging to redecorate your old room for years, anyway, so just think of this as a chance to go wild," she rambled, a hopeful smile on her face. I could tell she was worried about my response by the way her grip tightened on the box she was holding, but I wasn't going to pretend to be okay with this just to protect her delicate sensibilities.

"I wanted to redecorate my old room so it could be a cool hangout for me and my friends Mom. Remember my friends? The guys you made me leave back home to move halfway across the damn country?"

Mom sighed, setting the box she held down and brushing back her hair. "Honey, I'm sorry, you know I am, but I couldn't stay there anymore. It was just…" She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, before forcing a smile. "This place will be good for us, Kellin. I promise."

I crossed my arms, giving her a look that clearly said I didn't believe her. She dug in her pocket and thrusted a crumpled twenty dollar bill my way, a peace offering. "I saw a food place up the street, maybe while I get started on this mess, you can go pick up something for lunch?" I wanted to give her a snarky response, but the hopeful look on her face stopped me. As mad as I was with her about the move, the rational part of my brain reminded me how difficult this had to be for her, too.

I gave a small smile and pocketed the cash. "Sure, Mom, no problem." I turned away, but not before seeing the glowing smile on her lips.

The 'food place' turned out to be a small restaurant that didn't do takeout orders. "Look I know it's policy, but we literally just moved here and there is nothing to eat in our house. Can't you take pity on us or something? It's just a one-time thing, I promise," I begged the old woman behind the counter.

"No takeout. This is good family restaurant. You sit and order food, then eat, then take home leftovers. No exceptions!" She glared at me, daring me to argue.

"Fine," I muttered, gritting my teeth. "Can I have a table for one, please?" I put as much sarcasm in the question as I possibly could, but the little old lady just smiled and handed me a menu.

"You take that table by window. I get my boy to wait on you." She turned around and hollered into the kitchen, "Michael, _vamos_!Customer_, bebe. *Llevar una cesta una pan, este chico es demasiado delgada_."

A tall, tattooed Hispanic boy rushed out, an apron tied hastily around his waist and a bread basket in his hands. "Yes, _Abuelita_," he said dutifully, a cheerful smile lighting up his face. His eyes landed on me and he seemed to frown a bit. "**_Usted tiene razón_."

The old woman, I guess this kids grandma, grinned. "***_No duda sus ancianos_."

I felt my face heat up, because they seemed to be talking about me, and I just stood there, hands shoved in my pockets. The boy chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind, _Abuela_." He turned his bright smile on me. "Let's get you set up at a table! The food here is amazing, trust me I know. Mostly cause my dad is the cook." He laughed and stuck out his hand. "I'm Mike, by the way, Mike Fuentes. You look new, did you just move here? Because I haven't seen you before and you look like you're my age, so-"

"Michael Christopher, this is a restaurant, not a place to socialize," chastised a middle-aged woman from behind Mike and his grandma. Secretly, I was a little grateful for the interruption. Mike seemed nice, but he was speaking so rapidly it was hard to focus, especially since I was hungry as hell. The woman looked at Mike fondly, if not a little exasperatedly. "You're on the clock, _mijo_, you need to do your job. Invite the boy over sometime and you can get to know him later."

Mike sighed. "Yes, Ma." He rolled his eyes, giving me an embarrassed grin. "Sorry about that. Your table is over there, and _Abuela_ gave you a menu, so can I get you something to drink?"

I made a face. "Not unless you have something bottled? Look, I didn't really want to come here to eat. I mean, you're right, I'm new here, and my mom just sent me to get some food to go so we can eat, but your grandma didn't like that idea, so.."

Mike laughed. "Yeah, my _abuela _is a little set in her ways. But lucky for you, I got pull with the staff." He winked at me before continuing. "So just order what you want, and I'll get my dad to send it out in a couple to-go boxes."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, man. My mom would have been pissed if I came home with nothing."

Mike grinned in understanding. "Moms can get that way. So, I've got some other tables to get to, but I'll be back for you in a few minutes. I'd stay here and talk, but my ma would get on my case, and I have to use the money from this job to get a car, since my ass of an older brother won't let me use his…" He trailed off, spacing for a minute before coming back to reality. He set the bread basket down, giving me a quick smile. "I'll be back for your order in a sec, dude. Make sure you eat at least some of the bread, or else my _abuela_ will be on my ass. She thinks you're too skinny." He snickered, giving me a small wave and jogging over to a table across the restaurant.

I looked at the menu I had been clutching and decided to order a couple of chicken fillet sandwiches; they were cheap and sounded good and quick. While I waited for Mike to make it back to my table, I observed the crowded restaurant, quietly drumming my fingers on the table.

"Hello there, angel from my nightmare, the shadow in the background of the morgue, the unsuspecting victim of shadows in the valley," I sang quietly, my fingers tapping out the beat to 'I Miss You' by Blink182. "We can live like Jack and Sally if we- oh, hey."

Mike stood at my table, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, dude. Were you singing?"

I felt my cheeks heating up. "No!"

"You so were!" Mike crowed. "What was it?"

"B-blink 182, uh, 'I Miss You'," I muttered, brushing the black fringe out of my eyes.

"Nice choice, man, love Blink. You're voice ain't too bad, either! You should definitely come over and rock out with me, my brother, and our friends, Jaime and Tony; we've pretty much got a band going. I'm drums, Vic and Tony play guitar, and Jaime's bass, but we really need a singer. I mean, I guess Vic can sing, but he never wants to…" Mike trailed off, a light flush over his cheeks. "Sorry, I was rambling, wasn't I? Lemme get your order."

Once again, most of Mike's words had gone right over my head. Being in the car all day and unpacking must have taken more of a toll on me than I had thought. I did catch something about a band, though. "Yeah, that'd be cool. I'd love to hear you guys play. Um, can I just get two chicken fillet sandwiches? Extra bacon, please."

Mike scribbled the order down on his little notepad, giving me a bright smile. "I'll get this to my dad, and then I'll grab your bill from the front so you'll be all paid up by the time your food is ready."

"Thanks, man," I said gratefully, handing him my cash.

Mike rolled his eyes. "No problem, dude."

All in all, it took about twenty minutes until my food was ready, during which Mike kept me company, chattering on about school and his band, interrupted only briefly by his mother yelling at him to get back to work. He would go with a roll of his eyes and a quick grin my way, but would end up at my table soon enough. To be honest, I was kind of grateful that he decided to keep me company, although I wouldn't admit it. Mike was a nice, funny person, and I'd had almost no real human interaction other than my mom for three days.

Mike was in the middle of a story about the time he and his girlfriend had gotten caught making out in what they had thought was an empty classroom when his mother marched over, an exasperated look gracing her features. "Michael Christopher Fuentes, what am I going to do with you?"

Mike managed to look a little repentant, to which his mother chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Get back to work, mijo, your shift is almost over. Here's your food, hon." She set two medium-sized boxes on the table with a kind smile.

"Ma!" Mike complained, wriggling out of her reach. He shook his head, embarrassed, and grabbed his notepad and ripped out two pieces of paper. He scribbled quickly on one and set it down on the table. "Here, let's trade numbers. Text me sometime and we'll hang out!" He waited until I wrote out my number and gave him the scrap of paper before starting to walk away, but quickly spun around. "Hey, I almost forgot! Uh, what's your name?"

I grinned, shoving the piece of paper in my jeans pocket. "I'm Kellin, Kellin Quinn."

"See ya, Kellin!" Mike shouted over his shoulder.

After I took the food home, Mom and I ate quickly, devouring the sandwiches, which turned out to be the best we'd ever had. Once our food was gone, though, we kept unpacking, and by nightfall, the new place almost looked fit for human inhabitance.

I fell into my bed, my entire body aching. All I wanted to do was sleep for the next ten years or so, but I felt my thigh vibrate furiously. I debated whether or not to just leave it, but as it got more insistent, I groaned and grabbed my phone.

_3 new text messages_. I checked my inbox and smirked. One new message from my friend Jack, one from my other friend Justin, and surprisingly, one from Mike Fuentes.

_F/ Jacky boy: hows the new place dude? Band practice sux w/o u_

_F/ Justin: miss us yet?_

_F/ Mike: hey, its mike f/ the diner. _

I quickly typed back a response, telling Jack of course the band sucked without me and San Diego wasn't nearly as good as home, sending Justin a picture of me flipping him off (with love!), and just telling Mike hey, what's up.

I grinned to myself as I stared up at my ceiling. We hadn't even been here for a full day and I'd already made a friend. Maybe this place wouldn't be too bad.

Kellin

*bring a bread basket! this boy is too thin

**You are right

***Don't doubt your elders


End file.
